Most esteemed Guardians of the Sacred Jury,

Upon the shifting sands of destiny, we humble QuestMakers stand bewildered at the crossroads between the Grand Arena and the Citadel  of Answers. The mist of uncertainty shrouds our vision as surely as the cunning sorcerer Xarn disguises the hidden Gates of Eldermire.

Might you, gallant sentinels — as wise as Elenor the Owl Knight and as vigilant as the Iron Watchers of Thornwall — reveal to us the current tidings of this most tumultuous contest? For news here travels slower than a Hobbit beneath the weight of the Cursed Pie of Daggermoor, and we remain as lost as the legendary Grumblewick the Wayward in the Labyrinth of Eternal Confusion.

We await your revelations with hearts as eager as the bards vying for glory at the Festival of the Seven Lanterns.

By the glowing runes of Yloria, illuminate our path!

Dear Knight Dennis,

Your words sound so much sweeter than my coarse dwarven tongue. For months I've been searching for the right words, and you've articulated them with precision and wisdom. Once the results are in, we can then feast properly over a few pints of ale and mead in the first tavern we come across.

We'll toast to your health.